NO SAFE PLACE

Someone wants accountant Rebecca Linn—the granddaughter of a federal judge—dead, and it’s Deputy US Marshal Kurt Brock’s duty to figure out why and protect her. But her powerful family insists Kurt keep his relationship with Rebecca strictly professional...no matter how much he’s drawn to the feisty, fast-thinking beauty. Rebecca is sure the suspicious evidence she uncovered in her latest auditing case has put a target on her back. But staying ahead of those out to silence her is bringing her dangerously close to Kurt—and putting both their careers on the line. With the attacker closing in, can Rebecca and Kurt survive long enough to reveal the would-be killer’s secrets?

HEATHER WOODHAVEN earned her pilot’s license, rode a hot-air balloon over the safari lands of Kenya, parasailed over Caribbean seas, lived through an accidental detour onto a black-diamond ski trail in Aspen and snorkeled among stingrays before becoming a mother of three and wife of one. She channels her love for adventure into writing characters who find themselves in extraordinary circumstances.

Also By Heather Woodhaven

Calculated Risk

Surviving the Storm

Code of Silence

Countdown

Texas Takedown

Tracking Secrets

Credible Threat

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Credible Threat

Heather Woodhaven

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08061-3

CREDIBLE THREAT

© 2018 Heather Humrichouse

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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Kurt fought with the steering wheel as their truck lurched into the guardrail.

The sound of crunching metal filled the cab. The Hummer gave a final shove, and their pickup flipped over the rail. He and Rebecca hung like rag dolls against the seat belts as they vaulted toward the unforgiving water below.

“Protect your head!” he shouted.

The front end slapped into the water, and the truck flipped to the side. Pain blinded Kurt. The sound of rushing water filled the back seat.

“Kurt! Kurt, are you okay? Should I open the door? Roll down the window?” Rebecca’s questions came out as fast cries that he could barely comprehend. They hung upside down with all the windows and doors covered in water. The doors wouldn’t budge until they stopped sinking and reached equilibrium. The statistics of water crashes had been drilled in his head. They had thirty, maybe ninety seconds at the most before they lost any chance of survival...

Dear Reader,

Thank you for going on the adventure with me to Coeur d’Alene. If you ever have a chance, it’s a gorgeous place to visit.

I enjoyed developing the romance between Rebecca and Kurt, as they are so different from any other characters I’ve written in the past.

Letters from readers are the best, and I invite you to contact me or sign up for my newsletter at writingheather.com.

Blessings,

Heather Woodhaven

And whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men.

—Colossians 3:23

To the fire marshal who thought my research questions were grounds for placing me on the FBI watch list, thank you for still talking to me. Also, if it makes you feel better, I’m pretty sure my search history placed me on that list seven books ago.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Dear Reader

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

ONE

Rebecca Linn slid in her socks across the gleaming wood floor, cozy and happy to be in her favorite flannel pajamas. She filled the ceramic mug with hot water and a chamomile tea bag before returning to her grandfather’s desk. She had one more week in Coeur D’Alene, Idaho, to finish up an audit for Vista Resort Properties before flying back to Ohio.

Her firm would’ve put her up in the resort and spa, but it seemed like a conflict of interest to audit the company while being pampered in one of their resorts. Besides, her grandfather, a federal judge in town, owned a magnificent house overlooking the lake. Staying at his place was luxurious enough.

She dropped into the desk chair and her empty laptop bag fell to the ground. A black flash drive slipped out of the front pocket, reflecting off the soft glow of the desk lamp. Rebecca leaned forward and squinted. She’d never seen it before and she’d just reorganized her bag that morning before meeting with the accountants of Vista Resorts. She picked up the drive and turned it in her fingers. Other than a scratch on the back, the casing had no telltale markings to jog her memory.

Babette, a Siamese mix with white fur and blue eyes, jumped onto the ornate cherry desk and flopped down onto her side beside Rebecca’s laptop, purring. She absently moved to pet her with one hand, but the cat swatted her away. Figured. She liked only Grandpa. “What are we going to do about this, Babette?”

The cat held up her head for a second but didn’t answer. Procedure would have her send the strange drive into the corporate office for the IT department to scan, but it wasn’t as if she’d found it in the middle of a parking lot. It had been in her laptop bag. So, either one of the accountants had accidentally placed it in her bag or one of them had put it there on purpose.

A few hours earlier an accountant had bumped into her on his way out of the building. There had been plenty of room in the hallway—in fact she’d been standing to the side, admiring the potted plants that resembled mini palm trees—so she knew it’d been on purpose. She’d waited for him to try to hit on her but instead he’d rushed out the front door without so much as an apology. What if she had a whistle-blower on her hands? In that scenario, it seemed more prudent to see what was on the drive than to wait for a few days for IT to sort it out. Sleep wouldn’t come any time soon without satisfying her curiosity.

She turned off all internet access and inserted the stick into the USB port of her laptop. The chamomile tea had cooled enough to sip on while she waited for the antivirus software to scan the contents. Finally the cursor reappeared and allowed her to click on the lone file.

A spreadsheet of Vista Resorts’ assets and liabilities, remarkably similar to the one she’d saved on her online server, loaded. She never would’ve put a client’s information on a portable, unrecognizable drive, so that definitely ruled out any forgetful actions on her part. As she scrolled down the spreadsheet, several lines were highlighted in yellow.

“What are we looking at?” she muttered to Babette. It seemed that millions of dollars had been diverted to—

A creak behind her sent chills up her spine. The intrigue of the mysterious flash drive coupled with the settling of the house had turned her nerves to jelly.

Babette perked her ears and sat up in attention. That was odd. The cat let out a warbled growl that should’ve made her laugh if she wasn’t so freaked out. She spun around to the empty living room. The open floor plan allowed her to see the kitchen, as well, from her vantage point.

Rebecca blew out a breath. “See, it was nothing.” She grabbed her phone anyway. In reality, she had nothing to fear. Her grandfather owned a state-of-the-art security system and he’d made a point to tell her it was activated before he’d left. No alarm meant there was nothing to worry about. Her fingers clutched the phone tighter despite the reassuring thoughts.

The cat released another growl. Perhaps an early spring fly had flown into the house. Babette loved to hunt.

Rebecca walked toward the kitchen. Maybe the ice maker had caused the creak. The open layout allowed her to walk into the next room without any doors. She peered out of the ceiling-to-floor window, straining to see outside. Aside from the reflection of the moon off the lake, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

The darkness of the hill changed, as if in motion. She blinked and could see only the reflection of the furniture in the living room—and a man in a ski mask rushing toward her.

A scream tore from her throat and her chest seized in panic. She launched to the side, toward the back door. An arm snaked around her torso as a hand clasped over her mouth in such a swift motion that her phone flew out of her hand and hit the floor.

He pulled against her middle and dragged her backward across the floor. Rebecca squirmed and writhed against his steel arms to no avail. She tried to suck in a breath, but his hand covered her nose, as well.

Scratchy material brushed up against her cheek. “You’re coming with me either way.” He didn’t bother to whisper. So he knew they were all alone in the house. “It’s up to you whether you’re injured along the way.”

He moved just enough that air slipped through his fingers. She inhaled, but his heavy, spiced breath turned her stomach. There was no way a masked man trying to force her out of the house would earn her trust. If he got her into a car, she knew the statistics of survival wouldn’t be in her favor.

An oval mirror hanging on the wall opposite the desk in the living room showed her struggle. Her hazel eyes bulged against her taut, pale face, and the man’s lips formed a snarl over bared teeth surrounded by the black fabric of the mask. The visual image simultaneously horrified and cleared her mind.

She flung her legs out in a wide squat and dropped her weight like she’d seen her toddler nephew do a dozen times. The man grunted at the sudden change. His left arm pressed against her ribs so hard she cried out. He yanked her back again, but she sunk into her squat and he managed only to slide her another foot.

Rebecca twisted her hips to get her right foot behind the man’s left leg. She shoved her knee into the back of his leg in the hope it’d throw him off balance, but he didn’t budge. She bent her torso over fast, and his hand slid off her mouth for half a second before he yanked her hair instead. She screamed at the ripping sensation of her scalp, but as her chin lifted she saw a patch of exposed skin.

Her hand curled into a fist and she punched his neck. He gagged and released her long enough for her to elbow him in the stomach.

The cat screeched and the man bellowed. Rebecca didn’t look up long enough to see what the cat had done. She grabbed the shiny gold letter opener on the desk with her left hand and spun around, not even watching where she was going. The sharp edge slit across his arm and stomach. He jumped back with a roar.

“Get back!” She gripped the opener with her entire fist and shook it at him. His dark eyes watched her. He seemed more angry than hurt, with an air of confidence that he could overtake her again if he wanted. She didn’t wait to find out.

She bolted for the front door, an unbidden screech tearing from her lips. The front door had been left ajar. She slapped the panic button with her free hand as she flung the door fully open with her left shoulder.

She sprinted down the long driveway, listening for the slap of feet behind her. Silence only followed. The panic alarm never sounded. In fact, the alarm should’ve gone off when the intruder had entered.

Hidden in between the two evergreen trees in the yard was a black SUV-shaped vehicle. She flinched and ran to the far edge of the driveway, wondering if another attacker sat inside the vehicle. No headlights or engine sounds greeted her. The license plate on the vehicle was too dark to see, and there was no way she was going to investigate.

Her instinct demanded she yell “fire,” although she couldn’t remember why, only that she’d been taught to do so if in danger. “Fire!” she yelled so hard it stung her throat. She shouted repeatedly and ran down the quarter-mile drive to the main road. No one came to her aid.

Her feet stung from the loose chips of asphalt pressing into the thin layer of her socks. Her grandfather had no close neighbors. The lot sat on a two-acre hill overlooking the lake. She rounded the corner and ran into the street.

She chanced a glance over her shoulder but didn’t see anyone following her. Her attacker had worn all black. Or was she remembering correctly? It all happened so fast. It was possible he was out there, following her, watching her, waiting to pounce. That beast of a vehicle could suddenly come to life in a heartbeat.

She screamed for help, as if on a repeating loop, while she ran down the road. Her head swiveled constantly, searching for safety and possible threats. Headlights rounded the curve. She rushed toward them, flailing her arms.

At the last second, she realized it looked like she was waving a knife. She flung the letter opener to the side of the road and clasped her hands in front of her chest, pleading for help. The car didn’t so much as slow as it bared down on her.

Please, Lord.

It kept coming. The bumper barreled toward her. The headlights blinded her and she jumped out of the way. Pain rushed up her leg as gravel at the side of the road shifted underneath her toes.

Her balance lost, her fingers reached to grasp for something but met only air as she fell backward into the ditch.

* * *

Deputy United States Marshal Kurt Brock lengthened his stride down the hospital hallway. The smell of antiseptic burned the back of his throat. Tension in the back of his neck begged for some time in his massage chair at home, but time didn’t allow it.

He had made it home at midnight, after a successful capture of a fugitive in Montana, only to be beckoned by a federal judge at five in the morning. Hopefully the visit would be quick and he could go back to a much-needed couple days off. While he didn’t work for the judges, he served them. When a federal judge had a need, the Marshals jumped to try to accommodate.

He stepped in front of a closed hospital door where his coworker, Deputy Delaney Patton, stood guard. Kurt nodded and straightened his tie. They didn’t know each other well enough to chitchat—not that he was one to shoot the breeze—as their paths didn’t cross very often. Kurt usually worked alone. He lifted his chin and searched for any sign of the stocky judge.

“The judge went to the cafeteria to get coffee.” Delaney shook her head, the light brown hair from her ponytail swishing in an arc. “He won’t let anyone take a statement from her but you. Word from the boss is he wants you to lead the investigation. I’m to assist in any way you see fit. She’s ready to bolt, so the sooner you talk to her the better.” Delaney stepped to the side.

Kurt inhaled. Without a full briefing, all he knew was that the judge’s granddaughter had barely escaped a kidnapping attempt. He steeled himself for the worst. Seeing a child hurt was the worst part of his job. He pressed the swinging door. “US Marshals. May I come in?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” a soft, sweet voice replied.

He stepped past a curtain and felt his eyes widen as he stared at the gorgeous woman before him. This was no child.

She pulled her chin inward at the sight of him. She worried her lip and pulled up the hospital sheet with one hand. Her other hand brushed her curly brown hair, marred only by an oddly positioned gauze headband of sorts, away from her face.

Kurt realized his surprise at her appearance had likely caused the self-conscious actions. “I don’t mean to stare.”

“It’s okay. I know I must be a sight.”

“No, no, you look...uh—” He exhaled loudly. Sleep usually helped with foot-in-mouth disease and he was sorely lacking. He needed to start over and hope the deputy outside hadn’t heard his social blunder. “When I heard Judge Linn’s granddaughter was here, I expected someone younger. I’ve never come right out and asked the judge’s age—” Oh, great. First the granddaughter thought he was appalled by her appearance and now it sounded like he had opinions about how soon the judge had started having kids.

Her eyebrows rose before she nodded, a small laugh escaping. “He’s eighty-six. He’s almost got sixty years on me.” Her fingers rolled the edge of the blanket like a scroll.

“Judge Linn looks young for his age, then.” Kurt hoped that cleared the air so he could begin again. Over 10 percent of the sitting judges were in their eighties, but Judge Linn had more drive and passion than most sixty-year-olds. “Are you up for talking about what happened?”

She dropped the sheet from her fingertips. “Oh, yes.” She gingerly touched the gauze underneath her hair. “I could’ve gone home last night, according to one of the nurses, but Grandpa insisted the doctors keep me overnight as a precaution.” She eyed him as if trying to decide whether to trust him. “When Grandpa wants something, he usually gets it, so I didn’t argue.”

Kurt ignored that potential minefield. “Concussion?”

“Maybe. I didn’t pay much attention to what the doctor said after the events of the night. I...uh...kept trying to remember more. Identifying factors.” She turned her attention to the window. “The headache wasn’t much fun, either, but that’s gone away. Just a little stiff and sore.” She let her head sink back into the stack of pillows behind her. “I hit a rock near the base of my neck. Thankfully my muscles and skull took most of the impact instead of my spine.”

He’d had enough similar close calls to know the pain and stiffness had to be intense. “My understanding is someone almost ran you over when you tried to get help.”

She sucked in a deep breath and nodded. “A teenager. He said he didn’t see me until it was almost too late, but he waited with me in the ditch until the police came.”

The driver probably didn’t want to admit that he had been on his cell phone while driving. Kurt held back his frustration but hoped the cops who’d arrived on the scene had scared the kid enough with scenarios of what could’ve happened that the boy would never text and drive again. “And the attacker?”

She shook her head. “No sign. The police didn’t find him.”

Delaney walked inside the room from her spot at the door. “I received confirmation that the assailant turned off the security cameras at the front patio, so we don’t have any footage.”

Kurt’s heart rate increased as he thought about the judge’s house. “He bypassed the security system?”

“No alarm. The panic button did nothing,” Rebecca answered.

He knew the security system well. Top-of-the-line wireless security system with cellular backup. He’d approved it last year with the chief deputy’s blessing before it was installed. They liked to keep systems up-to-date and replaced them at regular intervals. The kidnapping attempt was alarming by itself, but knowing how to disarm technology like that wasn’t normal for a run-of-the-mill criminal. He schooled his features as if it was an everyday occurrence. He didn’t need to upset her further. “Okay. Anything you can tell me about your attacker? Any recognizable features?”

“He was in a mask. A black ski mask. He wore...” She licked her lips and looked up at the ceiling tiles as she blinked rapidly. “I can’t remember.”

Shame filled her voice; an understandable sentiment but unnecessary. Victims often had a tough time remembering those details. “Don’t beat yourself up or try to push it. It’s been hours, you’ve had a bump on your head and—”

“I’d recognize his eyes and his voice. I’m sure of it. He had a unique accent.”

“Do you know what kind?”

She shook her head. “Foreign. Not European. Someone who spoke Spanish but more of the Latin variety.” She shrugged. “I know it’s not very helpful, but it’s all—”

“You’re doing great. What exactly did he say to you?”

The door to the room swung inward and Justice Linn strode past Delaney and Kurt with two cups of coffee in his hands. He wore a colorful sweater that reminded Kurt of the early nineties, tan slacks and matching loafers. His hair, while thinning on top, was a blend of brown and gray that looked natural.

It was no wonder Kurt thought he was younger. He nodded at the judge. “Chief Justice Li—”

“Brock, it’s about time you showed up.” His forceful tone would make a less confident man feel nervous. The judge didn’t make eye contact, but handed his granddaughter the cup. “Here you go, sweetie.” He spun around. “I requested you. I want someone with experience on this, and I want it dealt with immediately.”

Since they had only two deputy marshals stationed in the Coeur D’Alene office, and Delaney was a newbie fresh out of basic training, it seemed a reasonable request. Kurt hoped Delaney didn’t take it as a slight against her. “Sir, I’m afraid I haven’t finished interview—”

“Someone attempted to kidnap my granddaughter last night.” The judge’s bloodshot eyes scanned the room as his lower lip quivered. “There’s no question about it. I want this treated as a direct threat to the court.” He pointed his index finger at the ground as if physically punctuating the sentence.

The truth was that it was highly probable the threat was aimed at him. Judge Linn had served for almost forty years, mostly in the criminal court. All judges received threats, but the number had risen exponentially over the past decade. Many of those threats were specifically aimed at family members, though usually it was immediate family. “Sir, have you or Rebecca spoken about this with the police?”

“They’re ill equipped,” Judge Linn answered. “You need to take over.”

Kurt appreciated the man’s faith in him, but they were going to need to work hand in hand with the police. He gestured toward the door, where Delaney waited. “I was told that Miss Linn lives in Ohio.” Of course, when his boss had told him, he’d imagined her as a little girl whose parents were waiting back in Cincinnati, not a grown woman. “We could escort her to the airport once she’s discharged. We’ll continue investigating the threat from this end.”

Judge Linn’s frown intimidated him more than any other superior officers did. “She’s staying here.” He turned back to Rebecca and his features softened. “Though I wish you’d change your mind. I know why you’re doing this. Don’t pretend you’re not staying for me.”

Kurt marveled at the change in tenor when the judge spoke to his granddaughter. He didn’t understand all the undertones of their hushed conversation, but it seemed like the judge didn’t want to admit he’d rather have her back in Ohio, as well.

She beamed. “No one is scaring me away. You know I have a job to finish here before I can go. Besides, I can help them identify the man. I would recognize his voice and his eyes anywhere. Plus, I hurt him.” Rebecca tilted her head so she could address Kurt around her grandfather. “He should have a cut along his arm or...” She closed her eyes and held up her right fist as if reliving it. “His right shoulder, to be more precise. I cut him with a letter opener.” She exhaled and looked past the judge. “I think I at least scratched his chest, as well.”

Kurt didn’t want to admit aloud that he was impressed, but she would be an asset in catching the attacker quickly. “If you drew blood, we could run a DNA test off the letter opener.”

She cringed. “It’s somewhere on the side of the road. Near the ditch I fell in.”

“Delaney, please have some officers sent to locate the evidence.” He tried to keep his jaw from clenching. If the police had interviewed her last night, they could’ve nabbed the guy by now.

Delaney spun on her heel and rushed out of the room.

“I don’t want this in the papers, Brock,” Judge Linn barked. “I need to go to the Boise courts for trial, and I don’t want her fighting a media circus.”

All of the federal judges within the state traveled between the three US courts in Idaho. But, if Judge Linn went now, the marshals would need reinforcements to provide for his protective detail. The deputy marshals stationed in Boise had their hands full. Many were out on fugitive cases like the one he just finished. They weren’t going to like the news. “Sir, we’re going to need police cooperation.”

Judge Linn ignored him for a moment as he gently kissed Rebecca’s forehead. Her eyelashes fluttered and Kurt found himself wishing he could see her pretty eyes up close.

The judge straightened. “Brock, a word alone.”

Kurt may have imagined it, but he thought he saw Rebecca fight a laugh as if she knew he was in for a lecture. He supposed she’d warned him when she’d said her grandpa was used to getting what he wanted.

Kurt stepped into the hallway as the judge rounded on him, finger in the air. “She refuses to go to Ohio because she’s scared she’ll lead the threat to her father—my son.” The judge shook his head. “If he hears a single word of this, he’ll never speak to me again. That sweet girl knows it and is determined to stay here until the threat is gone.” He narrowed his eyes. “Make sure there is no threat. Understood?”

It wasn’t his job to sort out family drama, but Kurt wanted to eliminate the threat as much as he did. “We’ll do our best, sir. You have my word.”

The judge frowned, nodded and took a step toward the elevator. “Oh...and, Brock?” He held up the same finger in the air but didn’t turn to look back. “I’m sure you already know that my granddaughter is beautiful and intelligent.”

Kurt’s spine stiffened. Unsure of what to say, he simply responded, “Yes, sir.”

“Don’t feel you need to get to know her any better. You read me?”

In other words, Kurt was to keep his distance. “Loud and clear, sir.” He didn’t need to be told twice.

All he needed to do was to keep her safe, catch the bad guy and put her on a plane back to Ohio.

TWO

Rebecca wanted nothing more than to turn her thoughts off, but if she stopped obsessing over the attack, she feared she’d forget some crucial detail. As soon as she got back to Grandpa’s place, she wanted some time alone on her laptop. Typing every single detail she remembered would allow her to get it off her mind and finally relax. At least, as much as she could unwind with two marshals guarding her.

She pulled her unruly hair back into a loose braid and secured it with a rubber band a nurse offered her. It embarrassed her a little bit to leave the hospital in a business suit, but her grandfather had grabbed the first thing he’d seen from her suitcase. He had already left with a policeman who would meet a deputy marshal from Boise in McCall to take over his protective detail. If her father knew she had been assigned her own protective detail, he’d lose his mind with worry, but she couldn’t deal with that yet.

Rebecca stepped out of the bathroom. Kurt faced the door. His thick brown hair was slightly lighter than hers, and she wondered if it was natural or from so much time outside. His skin, slightly tanned, seemed to indicate the latter. He leaned against the wall as he made notes on his tablet. His dress shirt was a bit strained at the center of his back. She knew from the way her brother complained that it was hard to find athletic fits of dress clothes.

The marshal was much bigger, much stronger, than her first glance had led her to believe. Guys like him probably spent all their free time in a gym. She couldn’t help but wonder if he would win a one-on-one fight against her attacker. Her attacker hadn’t looked as fit or seemed as strong as the marshal, but she shivered at the memory of the cold, calculated way he’d stared at her when she’d screamed for him to get away.

Kurt swiveled. His kind brown eyes searched her face. “Hey, are you okay?” He placed a steadying hand on her arm and his heat was enough to make her forget it was chilly. “You’ve gone pale. I can call the doctor.”

She blinked. “I’m fine. I was lost in thought, wondering why he let me get away.”

He stepped back and tilted his head. “Get away?”

She fidgeted with the edge of her suit jacket, curling it—a habit she couldn’t seem to break—and fought to ground herself in the present moment. “I’d like to think I got away because I did the right things, but...” She shook her head and cleared her throat. “The more I think about it, he probably could’ve caught up to me. Why didn’t he?”

Kurt crossed his arms over his chest. “Ma’am, you did do the right things. You fought back, you ran and you tried to get help.”

“You can call me Rebecca.” She turned her attention to the tiled floor. And while she appreciated his comforting words, it didn’t diminish her newfound fear. Her job required lots of travel. As a single woman, she took precautions and remained observant, but if she started to jump at her own shadow, she wouldn’t be able to cope.

His feet shifted as if uncomfortable. “You’ve met my fellow marshal, Delaney Patton. She and the police have secured your grandfather’s house. I’ll take you back there now, if you’re ready.”

She looked around the room but realized she had no personal effects. If Grandpa hadn’t brought her shoes, she wouldn’t even have that.

They walked to the elevator and parking lot in silence until they reached a massive white pickup.

He exhaled. “I wasn’t expecting...uh... We should have an official sedan available in a day or so. I hope you don’t mind riding in this today.”

“No, I don’t care a bit.”

He opened the door for her and offered his hand. She almost refused it except her head still hurt and it was quite a big step up into the seat. The moment her fingers touched his palm, her stomach flipped. He jerked his hand back as if she’d shocked him with static electricity. She elected to use the inside door handle to help her into the cab instead and he kept his sights on their surroundings, constantly swiveling his head until he closed the door behind her.

When she’d first met him, he’d seemed more friendly and approachable, but maybe she’d misjudged. As he slid into the driver’s seat she asked, “So have you been a deputy marshal a long time?” He nodded but said nothing.

“Enjoy your work?”

Another nod.

Well, he wasn’t going to help her keep her mind off the attack at this rate. She leaned back into the seat as he cranked the car’s ignition. Music blared through the speakers. She flinched at the sound of violins feverishly accelerating through the measures.

“Sorry.” The marshal swiftly turned down the volume. “I wasn’t expecting a passenger.”

“What was that?” she asked with emphasis on each word.

“An orchestral arrangement of ‘Toccata and Fugue in D Minor’ by Bach.”

She felt her eyes widen. The idea of a buff marshal driving a beefed-up truck with classical music booming cracked her up. “I didn’t mean the song title...” She gestured at the speakers inside the truck.

His lips curved to the side. “You were expecting country?”

“I don’t know, maybe.” She looked at his profile. “More like hard rock.”

He shrugged. “I rock out...to classical music.” A small smile crept up and threatened to melt her knees as he glanced at her before backing out of the parking lot. “The instrumental music keeps my head clear. It helps my focus.”

He squeezed the steering wheel and frowned as if surprised he’d just admitted as much to her. “We’d better get you to safety.” He reached in the back seat with one arm and handed her a ball cap with the Marshals star logo in the center. “Wear this and keep your head down.”

The solemn reality of her situation came crashing down. She followed his directions and slouched in the seat. The conversational, encouraging man disappeared once again. Her first impression must’ve been completely wrong. The man was all business. Until they found her attacker it would be like hanging out with a brick wall. All the more motivation to figure out who the intruder was and to get him behind bars so she could go back to living her life.

Five silent minutes passed before he pulled into Grandpa’s driveway. Two police officers on either side of the entrance waved them forward. The garage opened to reveal Delaney inside, standing next to the controls and connecting door. She, at least, offered a welcoming smile.

Rebecca reached for the door handle.

“Stay in the vehicle until the garage is secure,” Kurt said. He watched the rearview mirror until they were enclosed.

Delaney walked around the front of the car and opened the passenger door. “I’m sure you’re ready to rest,” she said.

“Did you find anything off the letter opener?”

“I’m afraid we haven’t found it at all yet.”

Everything looked different inside the house. All the blinds had been pulled down on the floor-to-ceiling windows. The soothing view of the mountains and the lake had been replaced with a kitchen counter full of walkie-talkies and other contraptions Rebecca didn’t recognize.

“I’ve arranged for the police to take shifts on the perimeter of the property. Judge Linn’s assistant has been gathering any cases she thinks worthy of note, aside from our own log of threats.” Delaney tapped her phone with each sentence as if checking off a list as she spoke to Kurt.

“How many threats have been made?” Rebecca asked.

Kurt and Delaney both wore the deer-caught-in-the-headlights look, as if they’d forgotten she was in the room. Delaney was the first to snap out of it and held her hand out to Kurt, as if waiting for him to answer. When he looked uncomfortable, she faced Rebecca. “You have to keep in mind that there are over two thousand sitting federal judges. And in any given year we could have anywhere from five hundred to over a thousand threats.”

“I’m not asking about the others. How many has my grandfather received during his time as a judge?” Rebecca put her hands on her hips. She knew from auditing hundreds of companies when someone was trying to keep something from her. “Or would it be better that I ask my grandfather directly?” She wanted to help law enforcement remove the threat, but she would not stand to be treated like a frail wallflower.

Kurt faced her but didn’t make eye contact. “Almost three hundred.”

She lost the ability to breathe for a moment. Three hundred people had threatened to hurt or kill Grandpa or his family? Her family? “That’s...wow.” No wonder her dad wanted to keep her as far away from the judge as possible. He’d made her promise she wouldn’t go into law enforcement or be with someone who was.

Maybe she could find some of the threats online. Surely some of them had made the news. Then she could identify the man and wrap it up before dinner. She spun in a circle, looking around the wooden floor for her phone. Hopefully the screen protector had worked as promised.

“I found your phone,” Delaney said. “We haven’t screened it yet, though, so please avoid using it. Tracey, the officer outside, has agreed to act as a courier until his shift ends. Our computer guy, Mike, will stay late to scan any electronics for spyware as soon as you bag it up. I’ll keep you updated.”

Rebecca held up her hand in a half-hearted wave but Delaney was already halfway out the door.

“If you don’t mind unlocking your phone for me, I need to take a superficial look before we bag it.”

Even the timbre of his voice made the back of her neck tingle. She crossed to the counter to pick it up. “Okay. But can I ask why?”

“Precautionary step, and I’ve been trained to see red flags that might speed up tracking the attacker. After our guy at the courthouse takes care of it, we’ll feel confident you can use it. Mike’s an expert. You’ll have it back in no time. Like the judge, you are accepting our protection detail of your own free will. You don’t have to, but I recommend it.”

“You don’t have to convince me.” She tried to smile as she thought about everything on her device. He’d see all of her app choices, like the funny photo manipulation application her niece, Mandy, insisted she try for all the selfies they exchanged. Not to mention the games Mandy begged her to download like Minecraft and Candy Crush. “I’ve been meaning to delete a few things anyway.”

“I understand.” His lips shifted to the right as if trying not to laugh at her.

“Maybe I can just do that real quick before—”

He lost the war and laughed. “Rebecca, it’d be better if you let me check first. I’m not here to judge.”

It was a glimmer of the man who’d first come in to interview her. Maybe he switched on the no-nonsense persona when in protection mode.

The screen was intact, thankfully. She clicked on the phone to enter her pass code and several previews of text messages from friends and colleagues popped up on the home page. It was nothing that couldn’t wait, but it unnerved her. She’d almost been kidnapped...or worse.

Everyone in her life still assumed she was having a blast.

His fingers brushed against hers as she handed him the phone. His eyes darted to meet hers and she looked away. Her laptop still remained open on the desk in the living area, but the black flash drive sat next to it. Odd.

She crossed the room. “Would the other marshal, Delaney, already have checked my computer?”

“I don’t believe so. I’ll want to do a preliminary scan before we send it in, as well.”

“Someone took out the flash drive.” She’d had it plugged in when the man had attacked, although there was a possibility it could’ve been knocked out when she’d grabbed the letter opener.

While Kurt recommended he scan everything first, she’d never sleep without following her hunch. “I have to check something for work before you take this. Feel free to watch for those flags,” she said. She sat and inserted the drive back into the USB drive before Kurt could object.

The spreadsheet appeared and she scrolled down. “Unbelievable. Someone wanted me to think it’s the same flash drive, but it’s not.” The highlighted problem areas were nowhere to be found. She examined the file a second time but didn’t find anything. Her heart raced and the throbbing headache returned.

She spun around to face the marshal. “What if this isn’t about the judge?”

* * *

“What makes you think it wouldn’t be?” Kurt lowered the phone and placed it on the desk beside the laptop.

“I’m sure that this flash drive was plugged into my computer when I was attacked.” She gestured toward a spreadsheet full of hundreds of numbers that made his mind go numb.

“It’s possible you misremembered. I’ll scan the flash drive for spyware, as well.”

“No, it’s not that...” She released a frustrated exhale and yanked the drive from the computer. The laptop sounded the obnoxious beep that meant she didn’t eject it properly. She flipped the black stick over in her hand, studying it carefully. “It’s missing a couple of lines I’m sure were there last night.”

“For your job? Do you have it saved elsewhere?”

“Yes, yes I have backups. I’m trying to tell you there was something on this drive last night that’s not here today. And I don’t have any copies of that. In fact this isn’t even my flash drive. It appeared in my bag last night. It might’ve been put there by a whistle-blower.” Her eyes widened and she shoved her finger at the middle of the drive. “I knew it! The drive last night had a scratch on it.” She waved the black object in front of him. “This one looks brand-new.”

Her eyes looked a little manic. He glanced at the bandage wrapped around her hair. How hard had she hit her head? Rebecca’s eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms, as if she already knew what he was about to say. His job required him to say the tough things sometimes, but he knew how to do so tactfully. “Sometimes, after a head injury—”

“I can’t believe you went there.” She rolled her eyes and leaned back into the chair.

“Listen, even aside from the blow to the head, you were in a dangerous situation last night. Adrenaline and panic can make some details fuzzy.” His training included a basic understanding of what victims and witnesses went through. They’d even put his class into a mock crime and asked them to identify the perp by mug shots that were two years old. Most of them had failed. “Don’t beat yourself up or push yourself. The best thing—”

She moved her hands in front of her face as if wiping away his words. “You don’t have to tell me that. I was there. I vividly remember it all.” Her face paled.

Kurt fought the urge to put his hand on her shoulder or to pull her into a hug. He’d never had similar inclinations during other protection assignments. It took him off guard. He stepped backward for more distance.

She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. Wearing her business suit, the action made her look even more vulnerable. “I know I’m not perfect.” Her voice was soft and lyrical. “I realize I could remember some details wrong. But about this...” She took a deep breath and stared ahead at a spot on the wall, as if recalling the attack again. “I’m sure,” she whispered. “There’s no way I imagined it. This is a different drive than the one in my bag.”

He closed the laptop and unplugged it. He slipped it, alongside the drive and cell phone, inside a bag that blocked all cellular signals and tracking. He opened the front door and gestured for the officer at the edge of the driveway to come get the bag. He set it down on the concrete for the officer to courier to the courthouse.

“What are you doing?”

He locked the door and faced her. “Don’t worry. You’ll get it back soon. If there’s any chance you are right, the flash drive could’ve installed spyware on your computer to watch and listen to the judge. As soon as you did it, they would’ve known, and maybe they wanted to get rid of the evidence and let you go.”

“Like a fake out? So I wouldn’t suspect they were spying on me? But there were numbers on the drive related to my work.”

He studied her a little longer than he needed. “Maybe you should explain your job a little more.”

“I work for a global accounting firm. We specialize in third-party audits, mainly for investment purposes. My firm had an audit request here in Coeur D’Alene and, since my grandfather lives here, my boss thought of me for the assignment.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Then I can put your mind to rest. Typically only IRS auditors get threatened.” Her eyes narrowed again, so he humored her. “Who is your audit for?”

“Vista Resort Properties. The corporate offices as well as their biggest resort and spa are located here. The CEO told me a potential investor requested my firm specifically.”

He almost laughed. People who specialized in vacations had to have the easiest jobs in the world. The likelihood the threat could be from a resort, of all things, seemed unlikely. If they got upset at someone, all they needed to do was take their own advice and get a massage or rest in a hammock. He’d pay good money for either thing at the moment.

Her hypothesis most likely had more to do with work stress and maybe the head injury. “I know you don’t want your family to be in danger, but a company that specializes in relaxing spas is definitely not after you.”

A storm seemed to brew in her eyes. “They bring in millions of dollars each year. It’s not out of the realm of possibility.”

Kurt held up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay. I’ll add them to the list, but I think we should pool our resources and look at credible threats first. I can access ones made in public with a simple search. If you’re up for it, I’d like to see if you recognize anyone while we wait for Delaney to send us more files.”

Rebecca blinked rapidly and nodded. “Of course. I’m just going to make some tea while you pull them up.” She stood quickly and wobbled. Her hand reached for her forehead.

Kurt instinctively rushed to catch her. He placed his arm around the back of her waist as she leaned into him.

Her cheeks flushed as she focused on the ground. “I’m fine. Just stood up too fast. I think I’m a bit dehydrated.”

Not to mention the aforementioned head injury, but Kurt knew not to bring up that sensitive topic again. His arm lingered a moment longer as she looked up into his eyes. “Thank you.” Her voice was soft and gentle to his ears.

Uh-oh. Kurt dropped his arm and strode to the door leading to the garage. He refused to let his mind wander on how much he enjoyed having her in his arms. “Your blood sugar might be low, too. We can order some food in if you don’t have anything to eat here. I’m going to grab my equipment while you make yourself that tea.”

He reached his truck and blew out a breath. Talking a lot wasn’t his style, yet he’d practically ranted. There was something that drew him to Rebecca. A completely unfair set of feelings, as the judge had practically ordered him to keep his distance. Sure, Judge Linn wasn’t his boss, but Kurt also didn’t want to make an unnecessary enemy on the court. One recommendation from the judge could go a long way in securing a promotion.

He left his two other weapons stored in the vehicle but grabbed his on-the-go duffel, which contained some of his gear and clothes. Ninety percent of assignments involved tracking down fugitives. He needed his head to get in the game in the same manner, tracking down an unnamed threat.

The protection part of the assignment wouldn’t even be an issue as long as she stayed inside the house, so maybe he had a chance to get Rebecca out of his mind. They could go through threats then keep to opposite ends of the seven-bedroom house.

He stepped inside as his phone chimed with a text from Delaney.

Gathering case files. Have you checked the Templeton case already? Most recent threat on news.

Rebecca watched him expectantly from the kitchen counter. “Is it about the case?”

“Yes.” He passed both the kitchen and the desk and rested his duffel on the coffee table in front of the leather couch. “We have a place to start at least.”

The tablet’s case allowed him to set the screen upright. It didn’t take long to pull up the newscasts about Templeton. The man had been convicted of drug trafficking across state lines. He’d attracted national attention when he’d threatened the judge on court camera, claiming he was going to find Judge Linn’s family when he got out. As far as Kurt knew, the man was still in jail. But like every other case they would look at, there would be a possibility that the prisoner could’ve ordered the job.

Rebecca sat on the couch cushion beside him and held her tea mug in both hands. The smell of chamomile and honey took the edge off the tension in his shoulders.

He tapped on the link Delaney had messaged him. The video captured Templeton interrupting the judge, yelling over the judge’s questions and finally, issuing the threat.

Rebecca shivered. “Grandpa stayed so calm despite that man goading him, threatening him...us.”

He hated this part of the job. She’d just been put under a lot of strain and here he was asking her to listen to more threats against her family. “Your grandfather wouldn’t want you worrying about him. The judge is known for having nerves of steel.”

She blew on the top of her mug. “I’ve never seen that side of him.”

“To you, he’s always been your grandpa.”

“His name is Templeton?” She leaned back into the cushions. “His voice and eyes don’t match the man who attacked me.”

“No, I didn’t expect him to. He’s still in jail, but maybe it triggered a memory. Did your attacker mention any names? Give any hints about why they came after you?”

She shook her head. “No. Nothing.”

Kurt’s phone vibrated again.

Judge wants you to look at McCollum case.

He wasn’t familiar with that threat. He typed in the name and the judge’s name, and frowned. The incident in question happened forty years ago. In some ways, that made it more likely since the perpetrator may have been released from prison by now.

While Kurt couldn’t locate any video, he found an archived news article that showed McCollum’s photograph.

Rebecca leaned distractingly close, enough that he could smell the tea on her breath. Kurt cleared his throat and placed the screen back on the coffee table for her to see while keeping his distance.

Her face paled. “I recognize that man.”

She set her cup down and turned away from the photo. Her finger shook as it pointed at the tablet. “I’ve had to look at that picture at least once a year for my entire life. My dad wanted me to always be on the lookout for him. That man is the reason my dad had to use mirrors to check underneath his car for bombs every day in high school and his entire time at college.”

Kurt couldn’t imagine having to live that way as a teenager.

Rebecca continued, “He’s the reason why Dad moved us so far away from here, why he hardly ever came to visit Grandpa with us and why he made me promise I would never be in or get involved with anyone in law enforcement. That man doesn’t need to come after us again. He’s already ruined our lives.”

“His rap sheet indicates he’s a dangerous man. I’ll get an alert out on him right away.” He picked up his phone and tried to ignore the jolt he felt when she’d said she could never get involved with anyone in law enforcement. It wasn’t his business, and it didn’t matter. So why wouldn’t his stomach unclench?

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